


In This Life

by saltycrow



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, HEA, Kid Fic, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltycrow/pseuds/saltycrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after ep 2.03.</p><p>"The horrors would not leave her, the scars on her skin reminded her it had all happened to her, even though at times it had felt like it had all been a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that just wouldn’t come to an end. Until he had come to her. He had taken her from that place, but still, she could not return to that careless girl, no matter how hard she tried."</p><p>Crixus and Naevia try to recover from their past, and in that attempt end up getting more than they ever even dreamed to hope. A happy life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second Spartacus fic. I felt like I needed to try and verbalize how life was like after all that happened. The beginning thus deals with recovering from rape and abuse, but I promise it has a happy ending and they live worry free for the rest of their lives. POV alternates between Naevia and Crixus. Hope you'll enjoy this.

When she looks back to her life, it’s hard to believe she was that girl. That careless girl. Or that’s how she sees it now, from this new perspective. It wasn’t easy even then. She had been happy until they gave Diona to the Roman and ripped the soul right out of her body, leaving her eyes dead and meek. She had giggled and been happy until they took her head too. After that she knew how life was. Just a series of cruelties, unevenly distributed between the good and the bad, the rich and poor. The free and the slaves. Surely her life as a personal slave to the domina hadn’t been good. Forced to pleasure domina while she had to watch dominus perform vile acts to her fellow slaves. She had been able to handle all that, though. Crixus whispering words of love and undying devotion to her ear had helped. Even that time she was given to Ashur. She had been broken, but not this broken. Not like she was now. The horrors would not leave her, the scars on her skin reminded her it had all happened to her, even though at times it had felt like it had all been a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that just wouldn’t come to an end. Until he had come to her. He had taken her from that place, but still, she could not return to that careless girl, no matter how hard she tried.  
Some days would be good. And some days she sat with a blade in her hand, thinking how it would be a sweet relief to cut it against her skin and let all the blood run out of her veins. But she didn’t. Somehow it seemed like an easy way out. She knew Ashur was out there, that there were people like him, and people like Glaber out there taking the fires out of innocent girls’ eyes. Fear and blame was all she had. Fear that any and every passing man would lay a hand on her. And blame… For Ashur and the Romans of course, but also blame for Crixus. She despised herself for feeling it, yet, she felt it.  
“Please, please tell me what to do, Naevia. Please let me be of aid. Please don’t cast your eyes away from me!” He is pleading and his eyes are full of tears because she had once again lain in the bed the whole day, unable to even look at him. From somewhere deep inside of her she gathers courage and will to look at him.  
“How could I look at you, how could I look at you when I love you more than anything in this godless world, and yet I blame you for this. Yet I blame you for losing your temper, giving us away, for not finding me sooner. I would rather cast myself to the afterlife than think these things of you.” The tears are running free on his face now. This time it is his time to look down. She sees his hand reaching for her hand, but he stops, remembers how she flinches away from touch. Even an accidental brush of fingers.  
“You have every right to place blame on me, Naevia. Do you know how long I have spent inside my head, going over that moment, the moment when that man taunted me and I could not control myself? I have beaten my fists bloody, and I wanted to do more than that. The only thought that kept me from doing so was the thought of you being still in this world, clinging to hope that I would come for you.” She hasn’t cried since the day of their reunion. The only time she let him embrace her. Now the tears are running down her face. For she truly does not love anything in this life more than she loves the man in front of her. Seeing his guilt, it breaks her. For he is the only one in this world that is truly hers. The only one. She cannot hold on to the blame. She loves him too much. And perhaps she loves also herself. For seeing them crumble, that would surely break her. Then she’d truly have only her fear and anger. Fear and anger she is not letting go, she refuses to, not as long as those men walk in this life. And perhaps with Crixus, she can see that anger to good use. She reaches to his face and wipes away the tears.  
“Cast the blame aside, Crixus. And help me join your cause.”

***  
The woman grabbing the steel blade is and is not the same woman he fell in love with. She herself claims there is nothing left of that girl. Nevertheless, he sees her underneath. Underneath all that she had to go through, all that she was made to go through. He played his part, losing his temper. He’s trying to forgive himself, she has. She had placed her hand on his shoulder. Telling him a part of that young girl had been taken away already, by the Syrian, before he gave them away. She tells him there is nothing he should worry about now, nothing more than taking down the fucking Empire. Making it so that no man or woman would have the power to give another human soul to another, to sell them and do with them as they please. He still remembers domina, commanding him to lay with her, to fill her with his seed. He sometimes wakes from a dream mixed with the things he had done in the arena and the woman in a red wig, ruining his life, ruining Naevia’s. Sometimes he remembers that moment when he put a sword through her belly. The child growing inside of her did not make him stop. It made him see more red. The symbol of all that he and Naevia had been put through.  
He tried not to think about any of it, trying to focus on Naevia, her training. But the past would not leave him alone, no more than it left her alone. He sometimes leys in bed when she is asleep, clearly having a terrible nightmare, and crying. He cris because she has gone through all that. He cries for that lost girl Naevia had called careless and innocent. The girl was still there, somewhere underneath, more visible when she smiled. He missed that girl, for if she would still be that girl, she wouldn’t have suffered so. His love for her would never diminish. He would still love her in the afterlife, no matter how buried that girl was. And he did not believe her so buried as Naevia did. She would never fully return. How could she? So much had been taken from her, so much that Crixus could only watch her in awe how she remained strong, how she carried herself through all this, not giving up, her desire for justice growing stronger every day. That woman may not have been exactly like the shyly smiling girl he had spotted on the balcony. She had evolved through necessity, through her own will. And he loved her more than ever. Every hour that went by, his love for her would grow. What had he done to deserve to love a woman such as her? Surely he was not worthy.  
The steel he had placed in her hand was now an extension of her arm. She swung it better than most these men who had held blades already as babes. She had not touched one before, but it was clear to him from the very first moment that she was born to hold it. Like Bellona, the goddess of war, she looked when warriors fell to her feet. This cause seemed more hers than anyone else’s'.

***  
That moment when Crixus falls to the ground, her sword pressed against his heart, she feels unstoppable. The Undefeated Gaul lies at her feet and she knows, she is now ready for anything that could come her way.

***  
Bellona, he whispers into her ear. He worships every inch of her body. His goddess of war. She pushes his shoulder, like she always does. “I am no goddess,” she says. But she is.  
“You cannot be a mere moral,” he breaths as he places a kiss behind her ear. She shudders, but he knows it’s not with fear and disgust anymore, but with anticipation and desire. He cherishes every touch. “How can such a women love me?” Her hands grab his hair, growing longer and longer every day. She likes it so.  
“There is no other man I would ever love. No other man would make me feel this yearning.”  
“Naevia,” he sighs as she pushes herself down, taking him inside of her.  
“I would follow you to the afterlife,” he murmurs as she lifts herself up and down. Her eyes are closed, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips. She opens her eyes as he feels her tightening around him.  
“I will love you for eternity, Crixus. Until the afterlife claims me,” she says, barely getting the words out of her mouth before she sighs with pleasure and collapses against his chest.  
***  
That moment that man's head drops to ground is not how she imagined. She thought she would be happy, but she is only relieved. There is no happiness in her, but she feels like she can breathe more easily now. Her whole body aches. Crixus’ arms around her feel like home. For so long her only home was the villa. But she has come to realize that her home is right here. With him. Where ever they go, she’s always going to feel at home, as long as he is with her. Please, don’t ever take him away from me, not again. She prays to the gods, not sure if she even believes in them anymore, but still hopes her words are heard.  
***  
For a brief moment he though she was going to die. But only for a second. For when he looked into her eyes, he knew she would not be taken down, not by the Syrian. Not by any man.  
***  
She almost misses the times when she had been just rescued from the mines. But she strikes the thought from her mind. The only thing she misses of that time was the peace, the calmness of knowing each soul living in vicinity of her. Now with every victory the number of people following them has grown. She should rejoice, and she does, but sometimes she wishes they were not living in a tent, so close to other people they can hear their every move. She misses being just with Crixus. Just alone. And he senses it in her. How could he not, he knows her better than his own soul.  
“I will take you away from here, away from this cursed empire, to south, to new lands, somewhere, anywhere,” he promises. He always keeps them, his promises, always.  
“No. I need to see this to closure. I need to see those men and women tremble as we trembled. I need to see the foundation of this empire crumble to dust. I still need my vengeance.” He barely nods and pulls her to his lap, his hands smoothing her thighs.  
“And after?” he whispers. She smiles, for he is the one to think of the future. The man who used to only think of who he would be facing in the next primus, now thinking of the time beyond this madness of war. Once he graved all this, the glory of victory, the feeling of making someone fall to his sword. Now it’s more hers. It is she who yearns for the moment when the battle is won and the enemy lies bloody at her feet. It is hers, and he stands right behind her, looking to see if she had any wounds. It makes her smile. Crixus, the Undefeated Gaul, Champion of Capua, concerned more of the cuts on her skin than of the victory. She knows he does all this for her. They would be long gone if she did not feel the urge, the necessity to do this, to stay and fight, and win.  
“If we’re still of this world, then we shall go, south, west, where ever you desire. And then, we can spend the rest of our lives tending goats and being bored out of our minds.”  
“Together,” he adds. Forever, she thinks.

***

It seems like a life time ago when he would have thought this absurd. Shaking hands with the bringer of fucking rain and calling him brother. Yet, it feels more natural than anything. He has been a leader, a brother and a friend to him. They have not always seen eye to eye. And now they are parting. It seems like an ending. As he grabs Spartacus’ hand he has a feeling it will be for the last time. It’s an odd feeling of melancholy, leaving this man behind, and walking away with Agron by his side. Naevia touches his arm as he looks over his shoulder, Spartacus only a black dot in the horizon. He gazes down at his arm, where the mark of Batiatus still burns. There once was a time where it meant brotherhood, honor and glory. It still seems to bind him to his brothers. But he has gained new ones, brothers and sisters who bare the marks of different owners. The mark of domina on Naevia’s back catches his eye.  
“Crixus?”  
He has been fighting this war, but it was never his war. It was Spartacus’. His mission had been Naevia, and then Spartacus’ mission had become hers. Only now he was feeling it, not for her, but for him as well.  
“We need to burn this empire to the ground,” he says.  
“We will begin at dawn,” she smiles. The fight is theirs, for better or for worse.

***  
But the battle they headed for is not there. It is somewhere else and at that very moment Crixus knows the battle is with Spartacus. Nothing seems like the right thing to do. Splitting their troops seems now so foolish to him. The news of Spartacus' slaughter do not take long to reach them, and as the news is heard around the encampment, they keep finding abandoned tents. Half of the people have already fled. When he looks at Naevia's face, he sees her despair, her need for a greater vengeance, the need to see the empire fall. As hours pass he can see realization set in. She is his Bellona, his goddess of war, and war, it has become her forte. She has done the calculations, to go forward with this would be suicide. He can see her breaking a little bit, this has been her agenda, her purpose. He is ready to be there for her, to comfort her, even go to this war they are sure to lose and die for. If she would want to, he would go into this battle to crush the empire, just to know he would get to die side by side with her. When she finally walks to him, it is a command for war he is expecting, for the hurt has not left her eyes.  
“Take me to south, west, where ever you desire,” she repeats her words to him. It breaks his heart that she will not get her closure. She will not see every slaver burn for what they have done, but she assures him it is fine, because what she wants more is to be forever by his side, in this life, rather than in the one that follows, yet he does not fully believe her. He has seen how much she needed this for her to let go of it this easily.  
***  
The journey is long, so long that he finally believes she has let go, or is beginning to. The first few days they pass in silence, walking side by side. The pain is present in every fiber of her being. As the days pass, however, the pain lessens. The smile returns on her beautiful face, and Crixus tries his hardest to make it a more frequent visitor. He tells her more and more of his early life, his brothers and parents. His childhood friends and a boyhood infatuation with a light haired girl from the village. She laughs at that, finding it hard to believe the girl turned him down, but he reminds her of how she was also not very forward with returning his feelings. She calls him a fool, yet again, with a bright smile on her face.  
On the fifth day she looks at him and says: “Take me home, Crixus. Take me to Gallia.” The only place that has ever been her home had been Capua, and yet, Gallia is Crixus' home and thus, it is also hers.  
“I will.”  
**  
The fields are greener than she has ever seen before. The rains have made them so vital, growing toward the sun. She grazes her hand through grass, thinking, this is what freedom feels like. A heavy hand sets on her shoulder. It rubs its thumb deep into her skin, making her lips curl into a soft smile.  
“We made it,” he rasps. She can hear the tears in his eyes from his voice, but she won’t turn to look. Can’t really, for she has to look at these hills, so green, full of life, full of freedom. His hand leaves her shoulder, his arms now wrapping around her waist, and his chin dropping to her shoulder. He took her here as he promised, to his home land, to Gallia. The memory of letting go of her vengeance is still fresh in her mind, yet as she now watches this plentiful land, so green, so full of water, she feels glad. Glad that she did not choose to walk them to a certain death, because she knows, without him telling him, that he would have been right there by her side, losing his life just to be with her in the afterlife. But life is surely better than afterlife, Naevia had thought to herself, not fully believing it then, but now as she takes all of this in, she is sure of it. A life with Crixus is worth everything, even letting go of her vengeance.  
Somewhere far away she hears Nasir, telling them to get back. But she does not want to move yet. The moment is too perfect to end now.  
“Come, Naevia. We must set camp before it gets dark,” Crixus whispers in her ear and then places a kiss on her throat. And she follows his lead, back to Nasir, Agron, Laeta, Kore and all the others waiting for them. But she keeps her eyes on the fields, for a moment longer. I wish they were always this green, she thinks as she turns to face the dirt road.

The place they finally choose to settle in is by the river. Crixus says it’s not permanent, that it’s not far enough. He talks of North. But she already likes it here. The river supplies them with fish, and water and the nearby forest with berries and anything she dared to dream. And this place has all the people she knows, everyone who is still alive. She gets a flash of Spartacus’ dying face. Not everyone is here. Rome has not fallen. But perhaps they have come far enough, beyond their reach. Crixus does not believe so. She doesn’t know what to believe anymore, she hasn’t for a very long time. Sometimes she looks at Sibyl, praying to her gods, and she wishes she could do that again, have faith in something other than herself and Crixus. But she can’t, not yet anyway.

Their settlement starts looking more like a village and less like a camp every day that passes by. Even though Crixus still talks of North, he carries wood and helps her build. It’s theirs. She can already see them living there, just the two of them. She smiles as he nails, hitting his finger with the hammer. Her Undefeated Gaul is much more skillful with a sword than with a hammer.  
“If you laugh at me, Naevia, you can just come nail this yourself,” he shouts, with a smile on his face.  
“Oh I will, my love. Anything to keep you from harming yourself.” He throws his head back and laughs. A warm feeling spreads through her. She is so in love with him. And this moment right here is everything she ever wanted. She can’t ask for anything more.

But she does get more than just that one happy moment. She gets so much more. And at first she does not believe she deserves all this. After the life she had, it’s hard to believe she deserves Crixus by her side, in their bed. And her friends, enjoying life, and just tending goats. She gets something normal, and it frees her soul. The nightmares come less frequent. Some days she even forgets she ever had anything less than this.  
One day she and Crixus refuse to leave bed. They hear Agron’s curses of their laziness, but ignore them. They lie naked, just touching, and breathing. Living. She traces the B on his arm. It has been only a scar for years now, but her fingers are careful, like she’s touching a wound.  
“I hate it that the brand is on my shoulder forever,” she murmurs. He combs through her hair with his fingers, stays quiet for a while.  
“Perhaps just think of it as a sign you survived. You made it. And without it, gods know, I might have never found you. “  
“Sometimes I wish it had never happened. But then I remember that if it had never happened, I would not have you. And to not have you… what kind of a life would that be?” she asks, tears forcing their way through. He wipes them away.  
“When you were taken away, for a moment I wished I had never looked up on that balcony where you stood behind her, because it was my fault. All my fault.” A sob escapes his lips. She feels his body shake.  
“You stupid man. No matter how many times I tell you it was never your fault, you still hold on to that. Life happened to us, more than to some people, less than to some other unfortunate souls. We are still of this world. I place blame on no one, not anymore. I was a shell. But you were there for me, and you blew life inside me. We may have cracks, but we are not broken.” They cry together. Some days it’s all they can do.

Pleasure and intimacy took time for her. After everything, not even Crixus’ arms and lips could fix her. So now she cherishes every touch she is able to enjoy. She treasures the feeling of safety. That moment she can just let go.  
“What would I ever do without you?” he grunts above her. It sends shivers down her spine.  
“Use your hand instead?” she asks with a grin on her face. He loses himself and spills his seed inside her whilst laughing and moaning. She erupts into laughter as the situation unfolds above her. Her Undefeated Gaul, becoming undone.  
“You wicked woman,” he murmurs to her ear, his member still inside her.  
“I may be wicked, but I am also left unsatisfied,” she says, her voice full of pretended vexation.  
“Is that so? Apologies, my love,” he says, his voice still thick with his own pleasure. He slips out of her, his fingers finding the place that gives her most pleasure. A moan escapes her lips as his finger keeps rubbing in a circle.   
“Am I forgiven?” She opens her closed eyes and smiles. “Not quite yet.” He bites his lower lip and smiles. His fingers leave her, only soon to be replaced with something better. With his mouth on her, it does not take long to find her release.  
“Have you forgiven me, Naevia?” he asks softly, his hand on her breast, playing with the nipple.  
“Yes, always,” is all she manages to breathe out before sleep claims her sated body.

It is early morning when she is standing in the middle of the field, pulling weeds out of the ground so that the small crops she has planted with Nasir will be able to grow freely. A sudden wave of nausea hits her and she is unable to keep it in. She leans her hands against her knees and breaths, the taste of bile lingering in her mouth. The fish must have been bad, she thinks, and continues to pull out the weeds, forgetting all about it.  
Until it strikes again the next morning. Crixus is with her then and the furrowed brow tells her that he is more than concerned. If he had already said something, she’d have known he was not. But he’s still silent.  
“Crixus?” she asks, waiting for his reaction, she cannot stand this silence, not from him.   
“Are you ill?” he finally asks. She assures him it’s nothing. And she truly believes it. Until it happens once again.  
“Naevia, we need to find a healer!” Crixus is almost yelling. He is on the verge of panic; she can see it in his eyes. They are unfocused and large. She places a hand on his arm.  
“Please, Crixus. Calm down. I must have eaten something bad. Perhaps the crops have mold.”  
“We need a healer,” he keeps insisting and pacing back and forth in their small cottage, but stops when someone knocks on the door. Naevia opens the door to see Kore standing outside their door.  
“I couldn’t help but to hear Crixus shouting of healers. I have studied it a little; perhaps I can be of assistance?” Kore asks, smiling sweetly at Naevia.  
“Crixus is overreacting. My belly has been uneasy for a few days, is all.” But Kore keeps asking her more questions. Odd questions, irrelevant in Neavia's mind, but after every question her smile gets brighter.  
“When was the last time you had your monthly visitor?” Kore inquires, making Naevia frown. “I –,” she starts but Kore interrupts. “It did not come last time, did it?” Naevia shakes her head. She does not keep close track of it. It hasn’t been that long that the bleeding had started again. It stopped soon after she was sent away from the ludus.  
“You are with child, Naevia.” For a moment she can’t really comprehend what Kore is saying. She turns to look at Crixus who is just staring at her, eyes wide open.  
“I was certain, after all the… I was certain this was not possible. Nothing has happened, nothing since I got back from the mines. And it has been two years or more. I did not believe…” Naevia is having trouble forming words. Her head is full of tiny thoughts, but none of them grow to take full form and leave through her mouth.  
“Your body and mind have healed. I have seen this many times. The sickness in the mornings, the swell of your breasts. You are having a child.”  
Naevia looks at Crixus and sees tears in his eyes. She has seen those salty drops leaving his eyes more times than she ever thought she would, yet this time, the tears are not for despair, fear or anger, they are for the purest form of joy. He crosses the room with two long steps and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. Naevia is too stunned to respond, she cannot even begin to comprehend it.  
“A child?” she asks, from herself more than anyone else. Crixus lets go of her to see her face. His face is full of tears, but he is smiling, smiling so brightly it could replace the sun.  
“Are you alright, Naevia?” he asks, voice full of concern. The worry is so clear on his face, on his stance, and it makes Naevia smile. Somehow even in the midst of all the terrible things that had happened, they had found each other and right at this moment, she thanked the gods, the gods she was sure she had abandoned.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks and yet, suddenly she feels it, she is not alright. A sob escapes her lips. She cries and even Crixus’ concerned questions and touches cannot stop her.  
“We are having a child,” she cries. It is ugly, the way she cries. She knows her face looks distorted and red.  
“Yes, Naevia, we are having a child.” And he understands why she is crying. For he is crying with her. It is the disbelief. Only the thought that she is going to have something as precious as her own child almost stops her heart. Because she has already gotten Crixus, she already has a home. Certainly she cannot have anything more? Certainly this is too much, too much happiness for one person.  
“I am so scared,” she whispers.  
“I am as well.”  
“I am also so happy.”  
“I know, Naevia, I know.” They sit down on their bed and cry for a while longer. For them happiness is not something that just happens. It is something you fight for, something you lose parts of yourself for. And this? she thinks. She did not fight for this, not even dared to dream of it. At that moment she is the happiest she has been. Yet, she is also more scared she has been in a long time. For now she has something besides herself or Crixus to lose. She has never been as terrified of losing something as she is losing this.

The fear does not loosen its grip on Naevia. It stays with her, but the happiness she felt as a small seed in her chest when she first heard Kore tell her she was with child keeps growing day by day. Every time she puts her hands on her stomach and just thinks of the life growing inside her, a smile spreads across her face. She can’t see it yet. Her stomach is still flat. And it makes her laugh when Crixus insists on speaking to his child through her stomach. Every night they lay in their bed, and Crixus puts his hands on her belly and talks about noting and everything. She laughs at him, but she loves it. He already loves this child so much.

Naevia and Crixus had been close before, but now he is by her side, constantly. If she is milking the goats, he is right next to her, milking the other goat. If she is washing their clothes, he is there helping.  
“Crixus!” she shouts one day when they are by the river, lifting the nets. She always does this with Nasir, but he is nowhere to be seen today.  
“Yes?” he asks innocently. Not even looking at her face.  
“Stop it.”  
“I do not know what you are referring to.” Naevia throws the empty net at Crixus.  
“Stop following me everywhere!” He smiles a sad smile. And it makes her eyes water. She swears it’s the babe in her belly that is doing this to her, all the crying, but she isn’t so sure. Because she understands him. Yes, she has been irritated that he does not let her be alone for a moment, but she understands that sad smile. He does not want to follow her everywhere. He feels like he must, and she knows that feeling. Knows the feeling that if she lets him out of her sight, he might be gone forever.  
“We are safe here, Crixus.”  
“We can never be certain of that,” he says. And she remembers the story he has told her, of that day the Romans came to his village, killed his family and took him as slave. Just an ordinary day it was, he had said. He does not trust ordinary days. Nor does she.  
“Nothing in this life is certain, Crixus.” He nods. He trusts her and trusts her capabilities to keep herself safe. She knows it. She tries not to be so hard on him for needing to know that she is safe.

She can finally see it. Her belly is swelling. She cannot help but to keep touching it, feeling that if she does not make sure it is still there, it will be lost. It is Nasir who first inquirers a name, a name for her.  
“Her?” Naevia asks with a smile.  
“I keep imagining it’s a girl.” And when he says it, so is she. A little girl with dark hair. That image won't leave her head.  
“We have not thought of names. It does not feel real yet.” They continue milking in silence, but Naevia’s head keeps spinning, filling with the image of a little dark haired girl. She can’t stop thinking about it. Not even when she is lying in Crixus’ arms, waiting for sleep to claim her.  
“Nasir thinks it is going to be a girl,” she whispers.  
“What do you think?” Crixus mumbles sleepily.  
“I still do not fully understand that it is a baby.” Crixus places a kiss on her temple.  
“Our baby.”  
“Our baby,” she repeats, and lies awake.

She still practices her skills with the sword. A wooden one. It keeps her sharp and her head from thinking of things that could go wrong. Her belly is getting bigger. It is not helping her balance, and her movements are slower. Crixus could so easily beat her, but he does not. Typically she would complain, make him give everything he has, but she does not do that. She is scared, of falling, of hurting the baby. It makes her angry that she is so scared all the time. She should be happy. The anger flares and she manages to deliver a blow on Crixus’ shoulder and then suddenly stops. It is an odd feeling in her belly that makes her halt, she does not recognize it first.  
“It’s kicking. I can feel it,” she whispers and drops the wooden sword on the ground. It’s not a kick she feels, but more of a fluttering. She smiles with disbelief written all over her face as she looks at Crixus. He comes forth and places his hand on her belly.  
“I cannot feel it,” he murmurs. He looks so sad. But she laughs. For how could she not. It is their baby, and it’s moving. It’s growing and it is alive.  
“We are having a baby,” she laughs. Crixus’ sad face transforms into the brightest smile that he only reserves for Naevia. He brings his hand to cup her face and places a sweet kiss on her lips. They hold on to each other, in the middle of an open field, just trying to comprehend what it means, having a child.

Crixus traces his hand on the scars that have formed on her belly. His touch is not foreign to her, and she has other scars he has touched before, but this, it has become a habit, and finally she asks him why he does it.  
“They are beautiful. You are making our baby and this is what I get to see, the marks on you. I do not get to feel it, but I can cherish every mark the baby leaves on your body.” He places his palm on her belly just when the baby kicks. She sees it on his face before he says it aloud.  
“I felt it! I felt the kick,” he sobs, his hands on her belly. He is crying, and she is laughing. For what else can she do when her Undefeated Gaul bursts into tears over his baby? But a few tears mix with her laughter. She could not have asked for a better man. She still feels he does not deserve a man such as him. But here he is, watching her belly in awe, already loving his child more than anything in this whole wide world.

The days pass and her movements get more difficult each day. Her feet ache and she has to empty her bladder constantly. Crixus tries to make her stay in bed, but what would she do there all day by herself, she asks him repeatedly and he has not answer for her.  
The winter had arrived weeks ago, but this day was surely the coldest of them all. She rubs her hands together to warm them, picking up the pace as she heads toward Nasir and Agron’s cottage. They must have a fire going in there, she thinks, wanting the coldness to be banished from this life. Before she can take another step she stops dead on her tracks as her belly cramps. She would lean on her knees, but her belly is so big she can’t for the life of her lean forward, or even see her knees. The pain passes and she keeps going. She does not reach Nasir and Agron’s cabin before the pain washes over her again. Kore said this would happen, she told her about the pain, and Naevia almost laughed in her face. She knew of pain, it was the only thing she knew for such a long time. But this pain, it is something different, so paralyzing, making her want to claw at her own stomach just to make it stop. Then she feels wetness pouring out of her, thinking for a second that she has wet herself, before Kore’s explanations about having a child catch up to her. Then she realizes that the baby is coming.  
“Gods help me,” she murmurs to herself before another wave of pain hits her, this time making her moan due to the pain. She just needs to make it to Agron and Nasir’s cabin, she keeps telling herself, but before she can continue, Agron is stepping outside, seeing her at once. The panicked look on his face would have made her laugh out loud any other time, but now, this pain is all she can think of, it is consuming her.   
“Nasir! Run and fetch Kore, I think the baby is about to be born,” Agron yells before reaching her side. The pain is clouding her thoughts, and the only coherent thought she has is cursing the gods on making her a woman.   
***  
Crixus has never run as fast in his entire life. But nothing in his life has held a meaning as high as this. His child is being born. He hears Naevia’s screams long before he reaches his destination. It makes his heart ache for her. If he could, he would spare her from all the pain in this life. He finally reaches her, lying in the bed of Agron and Nasir. In a normal day he would jest on the fact that Agron is so out of place here, a look of hopelessness in his face, but all Crixus can see is Naevia, her face red and glistening with tears and sweat. He reaches for her hand.   
“I am here now, Bellona.” Her hold on his hand almost crushes his finger, but he does not care. His pain is nothing compared to hers. 

***  
The birth is the swiftest one Kore has seen, she swears. One moment Crixus is arriving, the second Naevia is cursing him to the lowest corner in the afterlife for making her feel this way and the third the baby is being born. A beautiful baby. A baby girl, Kore announces. A girl, is Naevia’s only thought when Kore hands her child to her. Naevia does not see the blood, she only sees her, this little perfect creature that they made. She has a hard time tearing her eyes away from their child, but she does, to see Crixus. His face is full of tears of joy, as is hers, but she barely notices it. This moment is the moment when she forgets all her regrets, the regrets on not taking down the empire, on not running into that battle that would have surely killed them both. Everything in her past was worth it. Everything. For this moment, when their child lies on her breast, Crixus huddled over them. This is what true joy feels like.   
“Diona,” she whispers to her child. Crixus strokes her hair. Her life feels complete. 

***  
But their life is not complete with just the three of them. No matter how many times she told Crixus she would not go through the pain of birth again, she does it three times. And after everytime she swears over and over again she would not do it again, but soon forgets the pain, for the child in her arms is worth it, and so much more. For this life she and Crixus have led has been all forth it for their four beautiful children. Diona, Doileag, Ceana and Sòlas. Naevia and Crixus see them grow into adulthood without the fears they had. Their children do not lead their lives afraid, they live happily, never knowing what it is like to live fearing any day would be your last. They do not have to pull themselves through from the depths of their own minds that they are drowning in for someone made them suffer so much. They will never fear their partners touch, they will be never touched without their permission. They will be happy. And free.   
Crixus strokes her hair, as they sit in front of their home that they built together such a long time ago. He moves to slowly trace the scar on her face, as they watch their children, playing carelessly, running around, Doileag with her wooden sword, showing so much skill already at such a young age. Diona, with the too familiar severe look on her face as she looks at her siblings. So different from her name sake. Ceana putting together a crown from the wild flowers, already now more beautiful than anyone Naevia knows. Agron laughs about it, thinking it hilarious that Crixus will have to fend suitors off when she grows older. And Sòlas the sweetest child of them all. In him Naevia truly sees the future. Her only son is sensitive, and precious, no trace of the hunger for glory and fame his father had. Somehow they made it. Somehow Crixus and Naevia made it out of that life of war, battle and violence. Somewhere along the way they found happiness.   
“How did we stumble upon so much happiness?” she asks quietly, the memories of years ago still refusing to leave her mind. Crixus places a kiss on the top of her head.   
“I know no one more deserving of this happiness than you.”   
“I never even dared to dream I would be so blessed in this life. I always thought our happiness could be only found in the afterlife,” she whispers.   
“Yet here we are, in this life,” he says, with a smile on his face now. The days that Crixus and her spent in bed crying have long since passed. Their pasts still haunt them, yet it seems like a distant memory now. The pain will always be there, but here with him, and with all their children it is but a dull ache. The careless girl she was has found a way back to her. Naevia never imagined she would. But here she is, in this life, in their home. So full of happiness and joy.   
“I love you,” she whispers.   
“I love you more than life itself,” he responds, and finally, everything is as it should be.


End file.
